Sympathetic Resonance

CHAPTER 1 - Life Of The Party

“It was a great party.”

Jemison looks towards the voice. He is not startled by the man sitting in the comfy chair in the corner of his bedroom. It's not the first time that Walton Kensington has been there after Jemison awakes from a dream, or feels a sudden temperature drop.

“How are you, Kensington?”

“Still dead.”

Jemison Thorsby had jerked into awakening from a quickly forgotten dream that had something to do with a party in his apartment. He remembers flashes of people laughing and drinking, wearing clothes from decades before he was born. The images quickly faded as his eyes open and he slowly woke back into the present time grasping for the blanket he had kicked off. He was freezing.

It was an old building. It has what the realtor said is lots of character. Character, Jemison thinks, means drafty windows, noisy pipes, and creaking floors. And he knew when realtor showed him the apartment that it was filled with ghosts, like Kensington. What he didn't realize until after he moved in was that the building itself is a ghost. He can feel it when he walks through the halls. Sometimes for an instance, like lightening illuminating the world hidden by the night, the walls seem to give way to the past, or the future, or maybe some other reality. The sconces on the wall dim, change, or disappear into a wallpaper that no longer covers the wall in this reality.

Jemison smiles as he rubs his sleepy eyes. He returns his focus to Kensington and his vibrant blue fedora. Kensington is all about style. Jemison had never seen another ghost change outfits like Kensington. Most seem stuck in whatever they died in, or maybe something they were wearing in their favorite memory.

“Nice hat.”

“Thanks. Wore it to the party that night.”

“Oh yeah, there was a party. What wisdom are you here to impart tonight, Kensington?”

“What wisdom are you in need of, Mr. Thorsby?”

Jemison thinks, “is that how this works?” He had always assumed Kensington just showed up whenever he needed to say something, not whenever Jemison needed to hear something. Most of the time it even felt like Kensington didn't really have any reason for being there other than he got bored with being dead and all. This is the first time Jemison had ever considered that these visits were somehow to benefit himself.

“I can't think of anything pressing at the moment.”

Kensington laughs, “You never can. So, let me tell you. It might be time for you to tell someone about things like, well, like me.”

“What?”

“Jemison, you've had this gift all ..”

Jemison interrupts, “Curse.”

Kensington feigns insult, “I'm a curse?”

“No, but you know what I mean.”

“You mean it's painful to talk to me knowing if you told anyone about me they would probably want to have you locked up.”

“Exactly.”

The lights flicker on. Kensington and his blue fedora fade into the brightness. But he leaves Jemison with one final thought to keep him awake the rest of the night.

“What would happen to that pain if someone believed you?”

CHAPTER 2 - Cast And Crew

Jemison scrolls through the spreadsheet on his laptop, selecting today's possible leads on the next subject of investigation. His team is gathered in his office, which is located on the second floor of his condo building, and looks more like a snug whiskey lounge at a members only club than an office.

“Ok, that's two good leads. Who has another idea?”

Kimberly Morrison, his executive producer of their popular paranormal debunking reality show, 'Ghost Busted', offers an idea, but not with much enthusiasm.

“There's a Russian psychic in hollywood that seems to be taking a lot of money from people.”

Jemison thinks he know this one already. “Madame Zenuan?”

“Yeah.”

“Already looked into her. Definitely a scam.”

Corbin Woodbine, the teams lead investigator, agrees. “Yeah, she tells everyone there is a curse on them, and she can help them find out who put it there and help get rid of it, for a price.”

“And it will take several visits,” Jemison adds.

Kimberly thinks that sounds perfect for the show. Should be easy to expose her as a fake, or at least as as a bamboozler. Kimberly likes that word. It's more descriptive that fraud. But Devon Richwood, the shows Production Assistant, dashes her hopes.

“No we couldn't get any sorta release forms from her to film. Or from any of her clients. And I think she is a better case for local law enforcement to investigate than us.” But he says Corbin was looking at another psychic in Chattanooga that has a different style, and they found some clients that are willing to go on camera.

“She doesn't advertise at all,” Corbin goes on to explain that people only find her by word of mouth. None of the people they talked to felt scammed. They are only going to say good things about her, like the things she tells them are all true. Kimberly, the unwavering skeptic, “That's what they always say.”

Corbin raises one eyebrow at her, “She never charges anyone.”

They all look at each other. This sounds like a good lead to follow. The team thinks it would be interesting and get good ratings. Jemison hopes, as he always does, that this one could be real. But he keeps that to himself. He assigns it to Corbin, and suggests getting the client interviews before Corbin goes to see her, and maybe he would go too.

“I'm not letting the two of you leave me out of this one,” kimberly says with a smile, “.I want to be a client before y'all talk to her. Besides, she will know both of you from the show. My face isn't even on the website.”

Devon, on top of everything as usual, “You'll have to get someone to give her your name. That's the only way she sees anyone new.” They all stare at him waiting on more words. “Fine. I'll see what I can do.”

Everyone has their tasks for the week, and they wrap up the meeting just in time for a knock at the door. Devon looks at Corbin, “Who knocks on a business office door?”

Corbin laughs, “Someone looking for a private eye from the era that this office is decorated for.”

Kimberly gets up to open the door, “or my Mother.”